How dull, how dark, how dreary.  Could it get any worse?  Rain streaked the window and the view she liked so much.  She sat, feet propped up, and gloomily sipped her brandy as she stared into the dark nothingness.  She hated holidays  Everyone seemed to have people to be with, places to go and things to do.  Since college, she'd been alone.  She remembered that first Christmas at the college.  A week before vacation, she'd gotten the news they were dead.  They'd saved her life and the house they'd loved killed them, the furnace to be precise.  There was a build up of carbon monoxide and they were found in bed, as if they were asleep. 

The funeral was the hardest thing she'd ever done.  They’d had no relatives and she had been everything to them.. A tear trickled down her cheek.  They had been everything to her.  They had planned well.  She could finish college.  She marveled at the detail of their final instructions.  She'd kept their final letter to her, and once a year, on the date of their death, she'd read it.  That was a week ago and the blackness that had filled her soul then, filled her soul now.  She had to smile as she remembered their instructions. 

Tossing the brandy back, she stood and stared out of the window.  She traced the path of a raindrop, down the pane, with one finger.  She sniffed and tried to smile at her reflection in the dark window.  "Be happy, " the letter had said.  She grimaced and made a fist, almost as if to strike the window, but she only gently touched it, muscles quivering with restraint.  She pressed her cheek to the cold window and enjoyed the feeling of the cool, slick glass.  How could she be happy, she wondered.  Every time she started to get close to someone something terrible happened.  Something terrible would happen and she'd be alone, again, wondering how it could hurt so damn much. 

A bright streak lit the gloom of the sky.  Her eyes widened in delight.  For a few moments there was a glowing streak that traced a path from right to left and then vanished as quickly as it had appeared.  "Can I still make a wish," she wondered, "or is it too late?"  Staring into the blackness, "I wish to be happy," she whispered hoarsely.  She turned and picked up the bottle of brandy from the low table and took three large gulps of the burning liquid.  "That should help," she thought wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.  "I may not be happy but I'll be so sloshed I won't know it."  She giggled and took another much smaller sip. 

The bite of the damp wind cut into her.  She'd been quite tipsy when she'd decided to come up to the roof.  She slipped on a set of leathers but it was colder than she'd expected.  No matter, she loved the cold and felt invigorated.  She walked over to the parapet, carefully set the bottle of brandy on it and leaned on her palms against it, and looked over the city.  From 17 floors up, it was a nice view.  She lightly stepped up and looked down.  She loved the view.  She could see tiny cars, light's glowing, on the street below.  The occasional pedestrian was scurrying around, cab to door, door to cab, or hustling to some unknown destination.  They huddled and drew into themselves attempting to shield themselves from the elements. 

Eliza smiled and threw her head back and lifted her arms.  All she could see was a dome of darkness.  She was a creature of the night, one with the dark and the damp.  Sucking the cold air into her lungs she felt her consciousness expand until she felt as if she could encompass the world.  A second deep breath and she could feel the pain and the fears of the human mass, their voices like the squeak of ants and their hope and fears, smoke on the wind.  She took a third deep breath and . . .

"If you're going to jump, can I have the bottle?"

Startled, she spun, almost losing her balance.  "I'm not jumping and it's mine," she snapped back.  Then she realized the strangeness of the situation.  Seventeen stories up, past midnight, in the rain, someone was asking for her bottle of brandy if she decided to jump.  "Even if I jumped, I'd come back of it."

"Oh," was the response. 

She looked at the form.  He was the shadow man came to her mind.  He, from the tone of the voice, she figured it was a man, was tall, wearing a long dark coat with a wide brim hat firmly seated on his head.  Squinting, even with her keen vision, she couldn't make out his features.  "Shadows have no form," she thought.  She sat on the parapet.  "We could share," she offered.

He nodded.  "Thank you."  He walked towards her and stopped, patiently waiting.  She finally understood and handed him the bottle.  He twisted the cork from the bottle and took a comfortable pull from it.  He handed it to her and waited while she took a healthy sip.  As she lowered if from her lips, he place the cork on the bottle and she slapped it in.  She grinned and toasted him with the corked bottle.  "We're a team." she quipped.  "What's your name?"

"What would you like to call me?"

"I'd like to call you by your name!"

"Ok.  I don't mind."

Eliza waited, and as time passed, she realized he wasn't going to say anything.  Finally she asked, "Are you going to tell me your name?"  She wished she could see his face.  She still couldn't make out his features.  She wondered if he smiled as he answered.

"No."

Eliza hesitated her mouth open, not sure of what to say. "Ah," she stammered, "Do you know what I am?"

"No, do you know what I am?" was the response.

Again, Eliza found herself with an open mouth and no good words to go into it.  "I'm a vampire she blurted out."  She stared at him wondering what to say or do next. 

"You could share the brandy," he said.

She twisted the top off and handed it to him.  He tipped the bottle up and Eliza strained to see his face but shadow, thick as fog, seemed to coil and shroud his features.  She felt a chill prickle her body and she knew that goose bumps had sprung up on her arms.  He handed the bottle back to her and she took a sip and twisting the cork back into the bottle asked, "Should I be afraid of you?"

"What are vampires afraid of?" he asked.

"Not much, really," she replied.

"Then I'd say not," he responded. 

"Ok."  She fiddled with the bottle.  "Should you be afraid of me?"

He chuckled, a sound as dry as blown leaves on concrete.  "I don't see why I should.  Do you?"

She thought for a moment.  "No, I guess I don't.  I don't normally go around hurting people for no reason."  The were silent for a time, passing the brandy bottle back and forth.  "Would you like to come down to my apartment and get more comfortable?"

He shook his head in the negative.  "No, I'm ok.  How about you?"

Eliza started to say how cold it was but then realized that she wasn't cold.  She was comfortable.  She shrugged, "I’m fine."  She looked up and saw that stars were coming out.  The rain had stopped, she hadn't noticed when, but a slice of moon and the stars were visible and the air felt crisp and fresh.  "Oh, this is nice," she breathed.  She looked at the moon and felt drawn to it.  She felt as if she could reach out an touch it.  The silver sheen seemed to coat her body with a shimmering shine.  She raised her arms and could feel twin beams lance down to her outstretched arms.  She closed her eyes and felt her body quiver with a delightful sensation.  A suspended instant of time, an eternity within a moment, she felt her being expand, she felt the hopes and fears, she heard the chittering of ants, and she could see the spinning of the planets around the sun and track the path of the sun through the galaxy.  She was receding, the sun a mere speck that was swallowed within the dwindling maelstrom of the galaxy, a mere mote in the eternal vista that she was privileged to view. 

She shook her head and felt herself being supported by strong hands.  She was being supported in a standing position, but her knees were absolutely limp.  She stiffened her legs and supported her own weight, felt the hands on her arms relax and then she was standing on her own.  She turned and sat heavily on the edge of the parapet.  She was perspiring and felt scorching hot.  She threw her head back and shook it, allowing the cool night air to fan her neck and cheeks.  She reached up and unfastened her leather jacket, opening it, letting the coolness refresh her bare torso.  She sagged forward, gasping for breath.  She fumbled around and found the open bottle of brandy being pressed into her hand.  She took a long pull and handed it back to him.  "Oh wow," she gasped.

She but her hands behind her on the parapet and leaned back allowing the vest to open, baring her chest, stomach and breasts to the cold night air.  She breathed deeply and felt herself returning to normal.  As her breathing calmed she realized she was baring her breasts to strange man.  She carefully opened one eye, but she had the feeling there was no danger.  She was right.  He was standing, patiently waiting. She felt a rush of sexual desire so intense she nearly had an orgasm.  In a husky voice she asked, "If I asked you to have sex with me, would you?" 

Again, she thought she could hear the rustle of dry leaves, but she wasn't sure.  His head moved in a negative motion.  "No, that would not be wise," he softly replied.  "That is not what you need."  He picked up the bottle of brandy.  "May I take this?"

"Of course," she reflexively replied, preoccupied with the turmoil she was experiencing. 

He picked up the bottle and it vanished inside of his long coat.  "Thank you."  He walked away from her and seemed to be receding into a vast distance, though the roof top was not that large.  At the very edge of her perception, he turned, and is low dry whisper she could clearly hear, said, "Be happy."  She blinked and shook her head, but she was half naked, alone, on a very cold roof top.  She pulled her vest shut and shivered. 

She opened her vest feeling the cold air on her naked flesh.  Standing on the parapet and looking down like this was heady thrill.  She felt her stomach curl with excitement as she spread her arms and leaned forward into the emptiness. Relaxing and watching the ground rush at her she felt "that" way, the way that allowed her to float as gently as a leaf in a gale.  She smiled and then realized with amazement that her ascent had not only slowed but she was actually gaining altitude.  "I'm flying," she gasped and totally lost control and plummeted towards the hard ground below.

Fear ripped through her so strongly her bladder almost relaxed too much.  She inhaled sharply then forced herself to relax.  She controlled her tumble and grinned.  It was working!  She was gaining altitude again.  A lone man was far below her.  He was fumbling for his keys so that he could unlock his car.  Almost instinctively, Eliza stretched her arms towards him and dropped like a stone. 

"Damn!  That was dumb," she told herself, licking her lips.  She'd never fed in her own neighborhood, but the circumstances of the night had put her in a strange, very strange frame of mind.  She buttoned his collar and made sure he was ok.  Carefully locking him in his car, she walked away as innocently as any hooker leaving a John's car, or she hoped she looked that innocent. 

She neither saw nor felt the rapt attention focused on her.

A freshly opened bottle of brandy was at hand and the room, though cool, was much more comfortable that the roof.  The rain had stopped and a wind had sprung up that whistled and gusted enough to make itself felt in the structure of the tall building she now called her home.  She stood before her window, eight stories up and looked at the sky.  Dark clouds scudded across the face of the moon and the music of the howling wind lent a poignant counterpoint to the view.  Another sip of brandy traced its warm way down her throat.

Closing her eyes, she could imagine soaring with the wind, reaching the cold heights on the edge of space, perhaps to touch the moon and feel its silver thrill.  She ran her hands down her body and shivered with tension and anticipation.  Eliza was lonely.  Her soul cried out for companionship and her body wanted to be touched and caressed.  She wanted to feel a warm body next to her's and she wanted to lose herself in a passion of giving and receiving pleasure, feeling the excitement build until release claimed her.  Then she wanted to lie next to someone she cared for and who cared for her. 

Jesse was out of town, Christa still had not been heard from, Cindy was with her family. "I'm  as alone as any human being could be," she thought.  Then a wry expression crossed her face.  "I wonder if I can still be called human."  The thought trailed off and vanished under the burning wash of another sip of brandy.  Time passed and the soft thud of the brandy bottle on the floor did not awaken her.  The automatic timer on her window drapes automatically closed them before sunrise and the dim light of the morning sun did not awaken her from her restless sleep.